Ianto's Inferno
by BeeHawYeeHaw
Summary: Ianto has had this pressure in his abdomen all his life and when he breaks, he realises what it means. REVIEWS ARE ALWAYS APPRECIATED


Something burned inside him. It burned bright and slow for now, but anything could fuel it and cause a roaring fire. It burned, simmered gently. More like a tiny flame, only just sparked and eating up the kindling feed to it to keep it going but not build it. It sat dormant, waiting. Wain for what exactly, Ianto could know? But he just knew it was there. It had been since he reached twelve. Just tucked deep in his abdomen, waiting.

He'd mentioned it to his sister and only received looks of confusion and a giggle. Crazy, she'd called him. Ianto guessed he was right, of course, she was. Rhiannon was his big sister and a confused, twelve-year-old boy would listen to his wise big sister. He trusted her.

Only the feeling never left. His mother suggested it was just nerves, he was becoming a teen after al and going through all the changes. But as he said, it never left. His father hadn't given a crap, just scoffing and heading to work.

It stayed as he grew. Still there at fifteen, never left by nineteen. Now at twenty-five, it still sat deep inside and didn't seem to do much more than that.

That was until he joined Torchwood One. Something seemed to awaken it. Maybe it was the exotic aliens or boring paperwork. Maybe working for Ben Stanley was stirring it. Ianto didn't know but it didn't rise much, just growing a little more consistent. He thought, maybe turning to those who he worked with. But this was Torchwood One. "What's alien is ours" and sometimes that extended beyond aline and Ianto didn't feel like becoming a guinea pig for anyone.

He knew they'd find it interesting, maybe open him up to see. Root around in his guts then close him back up and seal him away in storage if they found something. Likely, if they didn't he'd end up retconned back to his youth and thrown in some dead-end job with false memories. He'd see that happen before and he didn't much like that idea. So Ianto ones kept quiet about this persistent pressure in his abdomen.

Of course, he thought maybe it was a tumour at first but he hadn't gone to a doctor. Instead, he'd snuck into the med bay and does a little scan or two himself. He might be a junior researcher but he knew more than they thought. It happened often. He was underestimated a lot: school, home, and now work. It wasn't a surprise but it gave him a slight advantage. They never suspect him for anything. And Ianto was determined to keep it that way.

Only these scans had shown nothing other than a marginally elevated temperature and that he might need to cut down on the sugary sweets for a bit.

So the issue was slammed in a box, wrapped in chains and each of the million locks was shut. Each key thrown away and buried in his mind. That how Ianto worked if it couldn't be solved it was hidden away and forgotten. He was sure even the weight inside his stomach disappeared for a short while.

The Battle of Canary Wharf had later broken out with no warning. Cybermen and Daleks rampaging the city and Torchwood London. Killing everyone or if you were extremely unlucky becoming one of the tin can men…

Ianto still remembered the stench from those high up rooms - the conversion rooms - blood or burnt flesh. It was deep inside his nose, hardly leaving for weeks after the accident. The images stayed too. Seeing the rows of conversion units with his co-workers and friends strapped inside, so many innocent lives turned into robots, 'upgraded' for this metal army. And those that got 'deleted' had corpses stacked high and shoved out of the way like rubbish.

Ianto had escaped. He still wasn't sure how. But something tugged at his abdomen, no it pushed. It pushed to get out and it had succeeded. It was like the chest-burster from Alien except nothing came out. His torso stayed intact and Ianto wasn't sure what happened. Only he felt warm, almost like he'd caught a temper at that exact moment, and a few more screams enter his head and haunted him. His clothes had been burnt from the fires in the corridor, he was sure, only the fire brigade had said that corridor he was in had been scott free from flames. Ianto couldn't wrap his head around it. He'd smelt brunt flesh, he was sure. He could still smell it if he got too close to a bonfire.

After that only twenty-seven people survived and one cyberman (cyberwoman?)

Ianto had done the unspeakable and rescued one. Rescued Lisa. Her cries had called for him and he wasn't so heartless to leave her behind. He was certain the conversion hadn't gone full way, he could reverse it surely. Ianto had rescued her. He'd rescued his girlfriend and gained a few scars - mental and physical - along the way.

The next few days had been hell. He'd almost lost Lisa a couple of times, but he'd managed to rig up some sort of unusual and cyber tech life support. How? He wasn't entirely sure but his determination to help his lover had seen to that lack of knowledge

Later he'd found Captain Jack Harkness. The smug, cocky, unafraid, and handsome as hell bastard. Ianto had sought him out, begged and pleaded for a job, even going as far as to stalk him and dress appetising. He knew the man couldn't hold back from a good fuckable body. Lisa had agreed, she'd let him. Meanwhile, the pressure in his stomach still pushed, only lighter now, more subdued like it had been satisfied.

Ianto had blamed it on the nerves and the fear of being caught.

Then he had been caught.

Two innocent lives gone and Ianto lost his one true love. The only reason to be alive was gone, killed by those he wouldn't call friends. Tosh, Owen, Gwen, and Jack. All murderers of his Lisa. That night had been a mess of emotions and tears and death. He didn't know where he stood after it all. What was he supposed to do now?

The force in his abdomen had increased so so much after that. Still increasing to this day. He should have told Jack. Told Owen when he had the chance but now they were all estranged. They didn't trust him and honestly, he didn't trust himself. SO he kept quiet, cleaned up their shit, no questions asked and carried on.

He'd tried to die. He had, really. But that smug, cocky, unafraid, and handsome as hell bastard had saved him, even though he was broken. And Ianto had that bastard kiss him.

What was he thinking?

The fairies came and went, poor Estelle died and Jack came to him, shunned by the team and grieving. For a time, the sense inside him, the constant feeling was gone and replaced by something else.

While deep in the cannibals' lair, he was reminded of the carnage at Canary Wharf. All the sights and smells the same, blood tinging the air and discolouring things it would touch. Although he'd never been 'tenderised' by the Cyberman, at least they gave a swift death with their 'deletion'. The's inhumane humans were cruel fuckers, tying him up and beating him with a bat. He'd ached for weeks and could hardly move. He wasn't sure how he survived. But the same sensation from Canary Wharf was there too. He blamed it on the adrenaline this time, his temperature rising and the crackling of burning wood sounding. The house and barn had brunt down once the police gained all the evidence they needed. Nobody knew how it set off but nobody was unhappy it was gone.

Next Tosh was manipulated, Suzie was brought back, and young Eugene died. The sensation in his stomach remained dormant.

After Owen went through the grief with Diane, getting himself mauled by a Weevil. And with Tsoh and Jack stuck in 1941, Ianto had been left to deal with the grouching son of a bitch to try to stop him opening the rift with theMnaiplator. Only the older man had gotten the best of him, kicking him deep in his stomach and leaving him agonising on the floor. And Ianto thought he was a medic, supposed to keep those from pain, not bring it. But Ianto had got him back with a shot to the shoulder.

Thinking back, he'd felt a heat grown in place of the little discomfort he constantly had. His anger at Owen, at Jack, and at Bilis fueling it. He couldn't tell anyone what it was, he didn't know it himself but it had grown until it had banished away with the whirling of the rift. However, Jack and Tosh had made it back safely and time was only splitting open across the world.

They'd led a mutiny. Ianto still felt like shit for it, still apologised very so often. Jack had died. That had ruined Owen. God and everyone else knew he felt so guilty for it. But the man had come back only to die yet again and disappear after a second resurrection. Ianto thought he;'d done it to punish them for their betrayal. It was the only plausible explanation.

The one thing that confused him though was that that smug, cocky, unafraid, and handsome as hell bastard had kissed him.

Right in front of the other and somehow took away the heat that bubbled in his stomach. He was like a cure, like antibiotics eating the malicious cells inside his body and making him better. All that from a kiss. But he had no one to tell.

Months passed without a sign or word fro their beloved Captain and Gwen took over. No one was sure when and who decided she'd be their leader. Ianto hadn't much cared, he was only the tea-Boy. But no, with a member down he'd been promoted. Ianto didn't like it at first, receiving some training form her but resembling like she was a teacher being taught by a student instead of the other way round. Torchwood London had prepared him for the field even though he was only a junior researcher. It was just the company policy. And what was the new girl, still naive and chasing after their missing leader, going to teacher Ianto? So, he;'d obliged her, let her believe she was being a sort of mentor.

And he found himself in the field.

Still hardly felt involved though. Still just a tea boy, the butler who cleaned up their shit, no questions asked, and the man who brought in a cyberman to kill them all.

When he'd lost all hope of ever seeing Jack again, that smug, cocky, unafraid, and handsome as hell bastard showed up. Saved the day like some sort of Batman or Superman, which that grin he always had and asked if they'd missed him.

Of course, they had. And he knew it.

John Hart was a pain in everyone's arse and Ianto now had a date.

That ever-present feeling, the discomfort, the heat in his stomach? Well, it burst out not too long after Miss. Cooper became Mrs Willaims.

Even married she still sought out his man, his smug, cocky, unafraid, and handsome as hell bastard. And along with every other fucked up part of his life, it seemed to be the last straw.

"Go away!"

"Ianto! Come here-"

"Tea boy!"

"Ianto!"

"Please! We can help…"

"Fuck off! Leave me be!"

Ianto knew he was a constant ticking time bomb. He'd been counting down since forever, taunting him that one day he'd reach one. One day he'd explode so bad he wouldn't be able to come back and he'd bring down those around him down with hi whether they wanted t come along for the ride or not. He had little control over this internal clock, he didn't know when it started or when it would end. There was no large, flashing, and antagonising red display slowly going down. No dial that slowly turned counterclockwise to at least warn him when he got dangerously close.

Nothing. And he'd go kaboom someday. He just didn't know when pr where or why pr how. Just that he would.

It could have been when he was a child when his father ridiculed him so much that he began to idolise the man to cover up anything wrong. Or maybe he'd have gone when Canary Wharf fell, that would have made the most sense. In all that chaos, surely he would have lost it? But no. He still had the ticking down. It didn't even happen with Lisa. He didn't take the hub or the team with him. No, he'd just lost control of his emotions and even fi the eat flared a little, nothing happened.

When the cannibals almost ate him, the rift opening and unleashed Abaddon, when they lost Jack twice or he ran off. Any of them. Any of the were a suitable moment, a time when he could have gone so off the rains he wouldn't know how to get back on them. But no.

Instead, destiny, fate, or whatever cruel deity above that played them like some chess game, decided it was now. And over Jack fucking Harkness of all things.

It felt almost stupid.

Why would he, Ianto Jones, lose his min - his carefully constructed, shield, and sorted mind - over that smug, cocky, unafraid, and handsome as hell bastard.

He'd been a mess. Broken. Shattered. A shell of a man and tipping on the edge waiting to fall oneway or the other. This way or that/ He'd only logically found two options: madness and death.

But Ianto had already tried death.

Yet he did know it was all Harkness' fault.

Now with everyone crowding him, cornering him, he couldn't stop himself. The sensation inside him was growing stronger, more powerful and pushing so hard he was sure he'd die. He could ignore it like before, pass it off as nerves or adrenaline, but Ianto was smart. Smart enough now to know that wouldn't work. Being ignorant grew harder every second, every moment he pushed it down.

It was a cardboard box containing a bomb. It wouldn't stand a chance.

And his emotions - his anger - only serviced it's power more. How could he tell? Ianto wasn't sure but he just knew. Whatever it was fed on his emotions. It prefered anger, rage. Hot white rage. And as his team members, not friends, closed in, he only drew more and more irritated.

What did they know? Why did they care? They practically alienated him from the start. Cleaned up their shit, no questions asked. And now they cared? Where was that after Canary Wharf or after Lisa? what about when Jack left?

Fucking nowhere. Because they. Didn't. Care.

Only wanted to stop him like everything alien or strange in this world.

Ianto let free an inhumane screamed which echoed throughout the Hub.

The thing, the sense, the warmth pushed now painfully at his navel, almost clawing at him from the inside. It pounded against his skin and muscle, fighting against the barriers to get out. And suddenly not caring what damage it could do, Ianto let it free.

And then, with such a simple resignation, like a strike of a match, everything burst. His bodied seemed to scream at him and everything hurt. Yet Ianto couldn't feel a thing. He just continued to shriek like a wounded banshee or off the key siren. It seemed to send hot flame s across every patch of skin he had, winding up and down his body with no reason or rhyme. It felt like small, stinging tendrils. Each over wrapping around him and holding tight. It pinched a little. It got everywhere. He could imagine it- no he could see it, spreading and climbing slowly but surely.

He was ablaze. Literally on fire.

Now imagine seeing your co-worker, your employee, your butler combust right in front of your eyes.

The thought brought a chuckle from Ianto's mouth through the cries and the tears. It hurt so badly but felt so good. So Ianto fired it even further. And soon around him was a bubble, a storm of fire. Searingly hot and roaring like a pride of lions. It was beautiful. The dancing flames of red, yellow and orange. The way it curled up and encased him, keeping those out and him in. It burned but Ianto let it.

He could feel it's temperature so clearly. At first, it was like an open log fire, just a soft heat, warming those on a cold winter's night. With the kindling popping and cracking as it kept the flame alive and fed. As it burned away into ash just to keep others warm. But for Inato it grew more than that and soon he was sure he'd reach temperatures that could rival the sun. Yet he was still here, still alive and in the centre of it all.

It made the Welshman shudder to think he was the fuel for his own inferno. It was consuming him, gradually. He could feel it. First his clothes, his immaculate suit. It singed at the sleeves and stitches, burning away like in those animated kid's shows before falling to the floor as a large pile of blackened ash. His tie burned up in seconds. His favourite tie that was. But it was worth it, so totally worth it all. Ianto grinned like a lunatic and pushed it further, hotter and greater.

It pulsed with such heat and such intensity, closing off the dome above him and keeping him there.

Ianto lets out a cackle, head thrown back.

He only half wondered what became of the team. The hub must surely be burning down as they speak. God, they must be terrified. Beyond scared even. Or dead. Perhaps they were caught up in the blast, burnt to a crisp before they could even realise what was going on. The humanity in him wished it was painless for them. But had no control over that.

At least Jack would come back. But what would he do? Kill Ianto? He was now a threat after all…

Not that he could get through his barrier of fire.

Anyway, it was slowly eating away at him and soon he'd be gone. Out of Jack's hair and no longer a liability or danger. His skin had begun to ripple like little waves in the ocean. It was melting and Ianto could feel it slowly stripping off. It felt weird. It didn't hurt. Just felt odd.

It was like peeling dried PVA glue off your hands as a child, fascinating and painless. Ianto watched with morbid curiosity as it dripped from his fingertips, exposing the red and white muscle under neither. And as he followed along, his skin bubbled and rose before detaching and cracked, after that it flaked off and each piece fell to the floor where it burned up completely. The familiar scent of flesh on fire caught in his nose and the taste coated his tongue. He flashed back to London and the Brecon Beacons for just a moment before the blazing heat took over and tugged him back tot eh present.

He felt like he was in the fires of Hell, the furnaces of Hephaestus or even the sun itself. And gradually his body began to burn up. A chunk dropped from his nose. His lips felt off before the protective epidermis disappeared completely. His ears drooped and dried and soon joined the rest.

Ianto wiggled his fingers, pulled his lips back and stretched his back. Each nerve ending was ablaze, sending an overwhelming amount of pain to him. The heat burned them away like each one was a fuse on a roll of dynamite but he'd already exploded so when each path reached its end he suddenly lost all feeling in his body but Ianto was surprisingly not alarmed.

All he did was let the fire burn brighter and stronger.

His hair was long gone, body, head, and pubic. The next target was his eyelids, the thin membrane being defeated easily.y This left his eyes exposed to the flame whether he liked it or not. And really, Ianto had no thoughts on the matter. The blanket of pinkish muscle began to cook, turning brown and soon black like an overcooked BBQ. The heavy cartilage protecting his voice box let him carry on screaming but not with pain, with anger and fury instead.

And like William the Conqueror, Ianto exploded a second time. His organs blew up, one by one. Each letting out a lovely squelching noise as it reached its boiling point and let free any juices or chemicals it held. His stomach, bowels and bladder were the worse. Half churned food lay in the mess, faeces and urine mixing in as they all caught alight. The smell grew worse and Ianto wondered how he was still conscious. Still seeing.

That question was answered when it all went dark. His eyes had gone. Like small grenades in his skull, the pin pulled free and had just been waiting to be let go.

He was just gone at this point. Bones and a brain.

Jack would have one hell of a clean up after this. Ianto almost felt sorry for him.

"Ianto!"

Jack…he could hear Jack.

How could he hear Jack?

Time seemed to reverse or the fire spat out what it once swallowed as his body regrew. Bones held together fast, muscle grew over them with fat and nerve endings too. His skin spread over it all and his organs came back, no longer burst like unwanted party balloons. He could hear, see, feel again.

His suit returned too.

And just like that, the wall around him shrunk. It grew smaller and closer, losing power and furiosity and passion. It's roaring quietened down to a low hiss, nothing more than a few embers left. It all sucked back inside. Like a vacuum cleaner picking up all the dirt. It all whirled up and around him, delicate skin absorbing deadly flames until it was all gone. Just…gone

"Jack…"

His vision cleaned with a blink or two. The blazing white light was gone, the overbearing heat cooling quick. It was all gone. Ianto could breath again. he was back and he was normal. He looked a head a up on the stairs stood who he was searching for. The smug, cocky, unafraid, and handsome as hell bastard that was the water that dampened out Ianto's fire.

There stood Jack, and Ianto knew he'd be safe. Because he was Jack.


End file.
